


the coldest night of the year

by tragicallynerdy



Category: UnDeadwood (Web Series)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Exposure, Hidden Injury, Hurt/Comfort, Hypothermia, M/M, Near Death Experiences, Near Drowning, UnDeadwood Mini-series (Critical Role), sort of - just be aware if it's a trigger for you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-02
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:54:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22088947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tragicallynerdy/pseuds/tragicallynerdy
Summary: Clayton whipped around just in time to see the horrified look on Matthew’s face as the ice broke beneath him. He dropped, disappearing into the water with a strangled shout._Because every fandom needs an obligatory hypothermia fic.
Relationships: Reverend Matthew Mason/Clayton Sharpe
Comments: 6
Kudos: 102





	the coldest night of the year

**Author's Note:**

> Exactly what it says on the tin, pals. I just really felt like writing some cliché winter-themed hurt/comfort, okay?? Enjoy!
> 
> (Title comes from the Bruce Cockburn song of the same name.)

“Just a simple fucking job,” Clayton snarled as he bolted through the woods with Matthew hot on his heels. “The two of you can handle it, no fucking problem!” He paused in his diatribe to heave air into his lungs. “Just go take a fucking look, see what’s there!”

“As much as I love your Swearengen impression, maybe it can wait until we’re not being shot at!” Matthew yelled from behind. Clayton let a branch whip back in retaliation, and was rewarded with a sharp swear. “Asshole, that almost got me in the eye!”

“More like the chest, Rev’rend, I know how fuckin' tall you are!” Clayton hollered back, ducking to the side as a gunshot rang out behind them. Woodchips flew from a tree a foot away, and he swore and kept moving. “Duck, Matthew!” Aiming a gun behind him, he waited until Matthew had darted to the side before firing off a couple of rounds. Someone yelped, and Clayton kept running, trusting that Matthew would follow.

It wasn’t supposed to go like this. Swearengen had asked them to do a job while the other three of their friends were unavailable, Aly having left town for a few days for another job and Miriam having taken Arabella with her to visit her mother for an extended holiday visit in Cheyenne. And it wasn’t like the Deadwood Five did _everything_ together; so when Swearengen had explained the job, a simple surveillance task of a spot in a nearby forest, Matthew and Clayton had said yes. Matthew because he was bored and loved the snow, relishing any excuse to go tromping through the outdoors in winter; and Clayton because Matthew had said yes, and he wasn’t about to let him go alone. And thank God he’d agreed; what was supposed to be a simple information gathering task had quickly turned into a shootout with the five men who had taken offense to their presence. Three men, now. Maybe two, if that last shot had been lucky. So it was just Matthew and Clayton, crashing through the snowy woods on a Tuesday afternoon in January.

Not for the first time, Clayton cursed their growing visibility in the area around Deadwood as men who worked for Al Swearengen. That had been the problem, he just knew it. They probably would have been able to pass themselves off as folks out to admire the scenery had not one of the men recognized them and spooked the others. (Clayton ignored the fact that they were in the middle of nowhere, and no one would believe that they’d just _happened_ to be wandering through the woods in this exact spot. A man needed something to blame, dammit, and it _was_ true that they were becoming too recognizable.)

Another shot rang out, this one hitting a tree some yards behind him. Matthew cursed then yelled at him. “Go faster, Clayton!”

“I’m damn well trying!” He yelled back. “Not all of us are gifted with freakishly long legs!”

“You love my legs!”

“Not the point, Matty!”

He put on a burst of speed and wove through a dense thicket of trees, leaping over a bush and hoping Matthew was keeping up. Ahead of him a large rock jutted into the forest, providing some cover. Clayton ducked behind it, pausing as Matthew joined him.

“We need a plan, gotta get out of here and go find our horses.” He panted for air, trying to keep quiet in the hopes that they hadn’t been seen.

They’d left their horses tied up some two to three miles away at the edge of the woods. The snow in the woods had been too thick to risk bringing them in, and both horses had good winter coats, so they’d cooled them down and left them there. Neither of them had figured they would be gone longer than an hour, but that plan had quickly derailed with the start of the chase they found themselves in. Now they just had to circle back and find their mounts, ideally while losing their tail.

“We could split up. I’m faster, could lead em away.”

“For God’s sake, Matthew, that’s a horrible fucking plan. That’ll only get you killed.”

A new voice reached them. “Where’d they go? Spread out, boys, they’re here somewhere.”

“Shit.” Clayton muttered, voice dropping to a whisper. “They’re close.”

“Let’s move then, I’ll follow you.” Matthew reeled him in with a hand on the back of his neck, ducking to kiss him softly. “We got this, ok? Ain’t nothing we haven’t faced before.”

Clayton smiled and kissed him back, harder this time. “I know.”

Someone shouted, closer this time. “I found footprints!”

“That’s our cue.” Clayton ducked around the corner of the rock and shot at the man he saw emerging from the woods. Not waiting to see if his shot had connected, he spun around and took off, Matthew following close behind. More shouting followed as they wove through the trees. Clayton veered to the right, aiming for where he hoped the horses were tied.

They had made it about a mile by Clayton’s estimate before the pair broke through the trees to reveal a large frozen pond. Clayton skidded to a stop, Matthew nearly bowling him over at the abrupt change of pace. Breaking from the cover of the trees was a bad idea with the men hot on their trail, and doing so to cross a pond was an even worse one. He had no idea if the ice would be thick enough to support them, and the combination of no cover and possibly thin ice made crossing over especially risky.

“Goddamn, skirt around it, go.” Matthew gave Clayton a gentle push towards the right side of the lake, where the trees grew back in thickly. They made it a few yards before Clayton saw a glimpse of movement on the shoreline ahead and swore, ducking behind a tree and pulling Matthew with him. A glance behind them showed another man, confirming his fear – they were surrounded.

“We gotta go across, c’mon, gotta be quick. You feel ice cracking under you, drop to your hands and knees and try to spread out, ok?” 

Clayton darted onto the ice before he heard Matthew’s response, staying low and hoping the ice would hold and that they wouldn’t be seen. The opposite bank was only some 500 yards across – they could make it. Ignoring the creaking beneath his feet and crossing his fingers, Clayton ran. Matthew waited a few moments then followed, clearly hoping that spreading out their weight would keep the ice intact. Before long a shout rang out and bullets started whizzing nearby.

He had made it nearly two thirds of the way across when Clayton heard a large creak coming from behind him, followed by a series of snaps and cracks. Dread rising in his gut, Clayton whipped around just in time to see the horrified look on Matthew’s face as the ice broke beneath him. He dropped, disappearing into the water with a strangled shout.

“Matthew!” Clayton screamed out, heart leaping into his throat, and he had to stop himself from sprinting for his partner as fear rushed in for the first time that evening. A bullet hit the ground near his boots, chipping the ice. He dropped to his belly on the ice, knowing it was both the safest position on thin ice, and would give him the most cover. Two men burst through the trees, and he took aim, firing off two rounds. One man went down in a spray of blood, but the other shot went wide. Clayton inched forward on his belly, crawling closer to the dark hole in the ice. Matthew’s arms appeared, followed by his head, as he clawed at the ice around him.

“You can do it Matty! Slow and easy!” Matthew didn’t respond, and Clayton wasn’t sure he could hear him. A bullet nicked Clayton’s hat and he swore, firing again the other man. Both shots connected and the man went down with a scream. Clayton didn’t wait to see if he would get back up, and started crawling towards Matthew, who was struggling to pull himself out of the water.

He was ten feet away when Matthew’s arms slipped on the ice around him and he slid back into the water with a splash. At the same time, a shot rang out from the left side of the pond and ice spat up into Clayton’s face from where it connected an inch in front of him. His heart beat double time.

“Fucking hell, that was too damn close” he muttered as he swung about, trying to find the last man. Clayton could’ve sworn he’d shot him half a mile ago. In the dark hole in the ice Matthew reappeared, sputtering for air and flailing about for purchase.

“Let’s end this, you son of a bitch!” the remaining gunman yelled out, voice ringing across the ice. _There_. Clayton finally spied him, just visible through the trees. He emptied his pistols, firing round after round until he saw the figure shudder and drop to the ground. And then he was crawling as fast as he could toward Matthew, who was struggling to keep his hold on the wet ice. As Clayton watched he slipped back under again with a splash, swearing viciously at the sight. 

“Jesus Christ, just hold on Matty. I'm coming for you.”

Once he was a few feet away Clayton slowed his crawl, carefully inching forward across the ice. Freezing water soaked into his clothing from where it had spilled over. Matthew resurfaced, sputtering up water and grasping at the ice. His movements were slow and clumsy against the slick surface. As soon as he was close enough Clayton grabbed one of his arms frantically, pulling as hard as he could.

“C’mon Matthew, pull!” Matthew clawed at the ice with his free hand, trying to find a hold. Clayton heaved, and he slid a foot onto the ice. “That’s it, I’ve got you.” He reached over and grabbed the back of Matthew’s coat, gloves soaking through instantly in the sopping material. Matthew kicked his legs in the water just as Clayton pulled again, shoulders and back burning with the effort. “Almost there, c’mon!” Clayton reached down and grabbed Matthew’s belt under his coat. With one last monumental pull, he was free. Clayton backed up slowly, pulling him insistently forward until they were a good ten feet away from the break in the ice, then let go. Matthew collapsed onto the ice, shaking and coughing. Clayton couldn’t stop the hysterical laughter that bubbled forth. It quickly faded as he forced himself to move.

“Matthew, c’mon. We gotta move. Ain’t outta danger yet, this ice is too thin.” He crawled closer and shook the other man’s shoulder. He didn’t respond, just lay there shivering and gasping for air. “Matthew? C’mon, Matty, don’t quit on me now.” Matthew groaned and rolled over, opening his eyes to look at Clayton, a dazed expression on his face.

“Clay, s’cold.” His voice was slurring together, and Clayton frowned in worry.

“I know, sweetheart. You’re gonna freeze if we stay here, and we still gotta make it off the ice. We need to go – can you crawl for me?”

Matthew nodded and rolled back over, movements clumsy and slow. Clayton nudged him forward, aiming in the direction of the closest shore. They crawled slowly and carefully, it felt like forever before they were close enough that Clayton determined it safe to stand up. He climbed to his feet, then reached down and pulled Matthew up. Matthew’s lips were blue, and his face was washed of colour. His hair was plastered to his head, and the hat that Miriam had so carefully knit him was gone, lost underneath the ice. Clayton pulled Matthew’s shaking arm over his shoulder and tucked himself into his side, hoping to give the other man some of his warmth. Not for the first time, he cursed Matthew’s height, knowing it would be so much easier to hold him up they were the same size. Matthew shook harder and curled into him, seeking body heat.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Let’s go, we’ve got to get back to the horses.” Matthew nodded against the top of his head, and Clayton shivered as cold water trickled down his neck. Water from Matthew’s sodden clothes was already seeping through his thick jacket, and Clayton knew they needed to get back soon and into dry clothes. Night was approaching swiftly, and the temperature would soon drop even further. He tucked the worry away, and pulled Matthew forward determinedly.

Progress was slow and difficult. Matthew was clumsy with cold and shaking despite the warmth of Clayton at his side. His normally sure stride was reduced to an uncoordinated stumble as he leaned heavily on Clayton, who struggled to support his weight. For the first time that day Clayton was glad for the woods around them. As much of a pain as the deep unbroken snow was, the trees cut the wind drastically, and right now Clayton would take anything that would make them just a bit warmer. His legs had gone numb through the thin wet fabric of his trousers, he couldn’t quite feel his fingers anymore, and he was covered in a cold sweat from the effort of keeping them going. Clayton knew that Matthew must be feeling even worse, his wet clothing doing little to stop the biting cold.

“Almost there, Matty, you’re doing so well. Just a bit longer then we’ll be there.” Clayton kept up a constant stream of encouragements, hoping it would help keep Matthew awake. He’d stopped responding some time ago and seemed to slump further and further into Clayton as time went on. His steps grew clumsier, and he stumbled frequently, threatening to pull Clayton down each time. It was through sheer force of will that Clayton kept them up, gritting his teeth and straining to keep them moving forward.

Eventually though, the cold caught up to Matthew, and his strength seemed to wane entirely. Dragging his feet along the ground and leaning most of his weight on Clayton, it wasn’t long before he tripped. And then he was falling, and Clayton was being dragged down along with him in a tangle of limbs. They went down hard, crashing into the snowy ground. Clayton lay there for a moment, stunned, before dragging himself out from under Matthew’s arm. Matthew didn’t move, crumpled on his side in the snow.

“Matty? Matthew!” Clayton shook him, panic rising steadily. Matthew groaned and pawed clumsily at the ground but didn’t open his eyes. His face was pale, and Clayton noticed with a sudden clarity that he’d stopped shivering. His breath was slow and shallow. “No no no, don’t give up on me now.” Clayton rolled Matthew over onto his back, then shook him again.

“Matty, c’mon. Wake up, we need to keep moving. I can’t do this, I can’t carry you. I ain’t that strong, I need you to wake up goddammit!” Matthew didn’t respond, and his head lolled limply against the snow as Clayton released him. Clayton realized he was crying, tears making two hot trails down his frozen face. He couldn’t lose Matthew, he just _couldn’t_. “Come back to me Matty, please.”

The woods around him was heavy with silence and sorrow. Clayton wiped at his face, then smoothed Matthew’s wet hair back from his forehead, leaning down to press a kiss to the cold skin. Then he sat up, closed his eyes, and dug deep inside himself for that thrumming strand of dark energy that he’d ignored for so many months.

“Alright, you asshole,” he snarled. “Let’s make a deal.”

The world faded to black around him, and the dark silhouette of the dealer appeared.

“ _Finally come, have you? What would you give to save him_?” The eerie voice echoed in the darkness around him.

“Whatever it takes.” His voice was a whisper. He sensed the Dealer’s glee just as a grin full of too-sharp teeth flash within the darkness of his form.

“ _Then let’s play a game_.”

He dealt a hand, laying it out on the table, and Clayton peered at his cards. Two of clubs, king of hearts, seven of hearts, king of spades, and ace of diamonds. It wasn’t enough, not for what he needed. Clayton’s heart was pounding, and his hand shook as he tapped the two and traded it in. The Dealer flipped over another card, revealing a joker. Clayton grinned viciously in triumph. It was just enough to save him.

“Make that joker a king.” He laughed in relief. “I win.” The Dealer’s smile only grew, and apprehension gathered in Clayton’s chest.

“ _So it would seem.”_ He snapped his fingers, and Clayton felt something _crunch_ in his chest with an explosion of pain. He bit down a scream, clutching at his ribs. The vision of the Dealer started to fade around him.

“ _Nothing comes without a price_ ,” the voice echoed around him. “ _’Till next time, Mr. Sharpe_.”

And then he was back in the clearing, ribs screaming, mouth filled with blood from where he’d bitten his tongue. He spit to the side, a sharp splatter of red across the snow, and drew an aching breath. Looking down, he noticed that his hands were warm and glowing faintly with power. Reaching out, Clayton cradled Matthew’s face between his hands. The power and heat rushed out of him, soaking into Matthew’s skin. Colour flooded back into his face, cheeks pinked with warmth, and Matthew woke with a gasp. He looked around wildly before grabbing at Clayton’s coat with both hands, grip strong and sure. Clayton couldn’t help the relieved sob that burst out of him, and he pulled Matthew up and in, hugging him tightly.

“What happened?” Matthew sounded bewildered, but he was _talking_ , and talking normally, none of the slurred speech from earlier. His clothing was still soaked through, and Clayton felt him shiver as he held him, but he was _alive._

“Nothing, nothing happened. You passed out, but you’re ok, we’ll be ok Matty.” Clayton knew he was babbling but couldn’t stop himself, relief bubbling over like a fountain. Matthew pressed closer, wrapping an arm around him and hugging back just as tight. Clayton clung to him for a long moment before pulling back and pressing a hard kiss to Matthew’s lips. “You fell through the ice, but we got you out. We can’t stay here though, we need to go. It’s too damn cold, and you’re still sopping wet.”

Matthew reached up and touched Clayton’s lips, cold gloves wiping off a smear of blood. His voice grew hard.

“You’re hurt.”

“Nah, just bit my tongue.” The lie fell of Clayton’s lips easily, knowing that Matthew would focus too heavily on his ribs if he told the truth. And that was something neither of them needed at the moment – getting to warmth had to be the priority.

Matthew continued to scan him, concern plainly written across his face. “Ok. But… you’ll tell me what happened? Feels like I missed something.”

Clayton tried to crack a reassuring smile and wasn’t sure he succeeded. Matthew narrowed his gaze, and Clayton broke eye contact and nodded.

“Later,” he promised. “Not now, not here.” Matthew nodded back, acquiescing for the time being.

Clayton stood up and pulled Matthew with him, ducking back under his shoulder. He ignored the sharp protest his ribs gave at the movement and started walking, tugging Matthew forward. Matthew gave in without complaint, huddling closer for warmth in the frigid air.

The light was fading rapidly, and with it the temperature was dropping. Clayton found himself struggling to keep oriented as dusk erased the shadows from the ground and with them his sense of direction. While far more cognizant and helpful than before, Matthew’s strength seemed to be fading quickly as his body chilled rapidly in the sodden clothing, and he professed to being even more lost than Clayton felt. Clayton was starting to feel the cold as well, his own clothing soaked through in places both from crawling on the ice and the press of Matthew’s body against his own. The snow they were trudging through didn’t help either, sometimes coming up as deep as Clayton’s knees. They wouldn’t survive in the woods after dark, and he knew they were pressed for time.

After what felt like hours of stumbling through snow and brushing aside branches, they finally made it past the treeline. Clayton looked around desperately, trying to spot their horses, and sighed in relief when he spotted them huddled together in the distance.

“Not that far, Matty, we’re almost there. The horses are just over there.”

“Thank the Lord for small mercies.” Matthew’s voice was hoarse, and he shuddered at a sudden gust of cold wind that whipped around them. Clayton could hear Matthew’s teeth chattering, and paused to tug off his hat, placing it on the other man’s head. He kicked himself for not thinking of it sooner. Matthew looked at him in confusion.

“It’ll keep you a bit warmer, you need it more than I do.” Matthew gave him a soft look and squeezed him tightly into a hug, leaning his cheek briefly against Claytons’ head. Clayton’s breath caught as the dull ache in his ribs flared to life again, and he bit his lip to smother any sounds of pain. He hugged Matthew back briefly, then pulled out of the embrace and started off in the direction of the horses. Matthew followed, looping his arm back around Clayton’s shoulders and pressing close to him for warmth.

They walked as quickly as they could through the deep snowdrifts, the newfound hope lending speed to their limbs. Clayton could’ve cried when they finally reached the horses, who seemed no worse for wear despite the hours they’d spent waiting. He hadn’t thought it would take them so long, or they wouldn’t have left them out there. He was suddenly very glad they’d rented horses that were primarily stabled outdoors and were used to the cold conditions. Matthew seemed equally glad to see the animals, and quickly pressed his face and hands against the warm neck of his horse, who whickered but stood patiently while he soaked up the warmth.

“Think you can ride by yourself? Or do we need to double up?” Clayton hesitated beside his horse, unsure if the ride would be too cold for Matthew. “It’s a long ways back to town, it’d be warmer if we share.”

Matthew shook his head. “I’ll be alright. We’ll be faster if we ride separately.” His smile was crooked and unconvincing in the dim light. “Besides, the walk warmed me up.”

“Thought the Lord frowned upon lying,” Clayton raised an eyebrow sharply. “You’re still damn near shivering out of your skin, I can hear your teeth clatterin’ from here.”

“Guilty as charged,” Matthew laughed, and mounted his horse. Clayton sighed and followed suit. “Still, the faster we can go the sooner I can get warm.”

The ride back was torturous. The horses were slower than usual, needing time to warm up and then often slowing to pick their way carefully through the snow. Luckily it was a clear night, and the moon was bright and full. But the wind was bitter and being up on horseback meant they were subject to the full force of it. Clayton found himself rotating which hand held the reins and pressing the other against the neck of his horse, trying to soak up some heat into his numb fingers. He couldn’t feel most of his body, and had no doubt that Matthew was suffering just the same. Neither spoke, too focused on trying to conserve energy.

It was the coldest Clayton had ever been in his life. His limbs were stiff and wieldy, his cheeks were burning with the cold, he couldn’t stop shivering, and ice was clinging to his mustache. The pain in his ribs was a steady throb, but had taken a backseat to the overwhelming need to get warm. Worry trickled in when Clayton realized that it was becoming difficult to think and focus, and he knew they needed to get to warmth soon. 

Clayton had no idea how long they’d been riding when the lanterns of Deadwood came into view, but it felt like hours. Relief and hope flooded into his chest with a rush of warmth, and he turned in his saddle to call out to Matthew jubilantly.

“I can see Deadwood, Matthew!” There was no response. Matthew simply kept riding forward silently. The brief positivity abruptly faded, and Clayton steered his horse closer, reaching over to touch Matthew’s arm. “Matthew?”

At the touch Matthew looked at him, blinking slowly in the moonlight. His voice was slow and quiet when he finally responded.

“Clayton. I don’t feel so cold anymore.” He scanned Clayton’s face, taking in the fear in his eyes. “That’s bad, right?”

“Yeah, Matty, that’s bad.” Clayton tried to smile encouragingly. “We’re so close though, just gotta go faster, okay? Keep up, don’t fall behind.” Matthew nodded, and Clayton nudged his horse into a canter, praying she would find her footing in the snow. Matthew followed suit, and they sped closer and closer to shelter. Clayton kept a close watch on the man beside him, checking frequently to make sure he was still seated and keeping pace. His last visit to the Dealer was heavy in his mind, but he wanted to keep it as a very last option. As they rode into town he was no longer sure if Matthew was consciously directing his horse or if the animal was simply following Clayton’s mare, worry intensifying with the thought.

Clayton slowed them to a halt outside the Bullock Hotel, not willing to take Matthew back to the cold church in these circumstances. They needed to get warm, and quickly, and his room at the Bullock would have to do. He slid off his mare, willing his numb legs to hold his weight, and made his way unsteadily over to the other horse. Matthew was leaning against it’s neck, and hadn’t seemed to realize that they had stopped. Clayton approached and shook his leg roughly.

“Matty, we’re here. Need you t’come down now.” Matthew slowly straightened up and nodded, then dismounted. His movements were clumsy, and he nearly fell before Clayton caught him around the waist. Clayton slung Matthew’s arm around his shoulders in the familiar pose and dragged him towards the door of the hotel, desperate to make it inside.

They burst through the door in a flurry of cold air, stumbling over the sill and into the warm hotel. The man at the front desk gaped at them. Clayton struggled to pull Matthew over to the desk, panting with exertion. Matthew slumped against him when they halted, knees nearly buckling and head lolling to rest on top of Clayton’s.

“Preacher fell through some ice a few hours ago. I need you to send up as many blankets as you can spare to m’room, and any bed warmers you got too. Can one of your boys take the horses out front back to the livery?”

“Yes sir, Mister Sharpe, right away.” He was already turning, hollering for one of the kitchen boys, when Clayton murmured out his thanks. Clayton heaved Matthew around, steering him towards the staircase. He paused at the bottom and turned around, calling out just before the man disappeared into a back room.

“Is the new Doc back in town yet?”

“No sir, not due back till next week.” Clayton’s heart sank at the news. He nodded his thanks and continued the arduous task of moving the nigh-unconscious Matthew up the stairs and into his room.

Somehow, they made it to his door. Leaning Matthew’s weight partially against the door jamb, he dug into his pockets with frozen fingers. It took him a minute to properly grasp his key, fingers fumbling and unwieldy, and even longer to unlock the door. He would be cursing up a storm if he’d had the energy. Matthew grew heavier with each passing minute, leaning harder and harder against Clayton’s shoulders. At last the door clicked open, and they were stumbling inside.

“Ok darlin’, let’s get you undressed.” Matthew fairly collapsed in on himself when Clayton deposited him into the only chair in the room, limbs falling akimbo and head lolling back against the wall. He was back to that pale, nearly unresponsive state, almost passing out as soon as he was seated. Clayton couldn’t let himself stop and rest despite the exhaustion that threatened to take over his body, worry lending speed to his fumbling hands. He lit a lantern, tugged off his wet gloves and shucked his coat, then tackled the buttons on Matthew’s coat. The Reverend’s clothing was nearly frozen stiff, and had Clayton cursing under his breath before long, the combination of frozen fingers and frozen clothing making for a particularly difficult task. Finally the buttons were undone, and Clayton was peeling the coat off, coaxing Matthew forward so he could remove it.

A knock sounded on the door as he started on the buttons of Matthew’s shirt. He paused in confusion before remembering the blankets that were being brought up.

“Be right back,” he murmured, kissing Matthew softly on the forehead. Hoping Matthew would be able to stay upright in the chair without support, he answered the door. The man from the front desk stood there, arms full of blankets which he deposited on the bed when Clayton stepped back to let him in. Following close behind were a teenage boy carrying a bed warmer, and an older woman with a pot of tea and some mugs. She took one look at them both and tutted sharply, setting the pot down on the table.

“Let this cool a bit before you drink it, or you’ll burn yourselves. You know how to get him warm?”

Clayton nodded. “Yes ma’am, not the first time I’ve seen someone frozen half to death.” She nodded back, satisfied, and spent a moment settling the bed warmer into place and shooing her two companions out the door. She paused, turning back to him.

“You need help getting him into bed? You look near frozen yourself.” Clayton hesitated, knowing that another set of hands would get Matthew warmer quicker. “I’ve got four sons, he ain’t got nothing I haven’t seen before, even if he is a preacher.”

“Maybe just down to his underclothes?” She smiled and sent her companions on, closing the door and returning to help him. Together they wrestled Matthew out of his clothing, leaving him in just an undershirt and boxers. Matthew roused enough to try and help, raising one clumsy hand to paw at Clayton as he tugged at stiff clothing. Clayton hushed him and pushed his hand back down gently, relieved when Matthew obeyed without complaint. The woman, who had introduced herself as Rebecca, gathered up his wet clothing and hustled it downstairs to dry it, telling Clayton that she’d be back shortly for his own clothing.

Once they were alone Clayton coaxed Matthew out of his wet undershirt, then knelt beside him to work his boxers down from his hips. He patted him dry carefully with a towel and checked his hands and feet for signs of frostbite. Miraculously, there were none, and Clayton breathed out a prayer of thanks to the God that his lover believed in. After moving the bedwarmer he bundled Matthew under the toasty covers, piling more blankets on top until he could barely make out the shape of the other man.

And then the night caught up to Clayton and his strength fled. He collapsed onto the floor beside the bed, shaking apart. It was only the knowledge that Rebecca would be returning that finally pushed him to move, knowing that he didn’t want another person undressing him (and he was sure that she would, or would find someone else to, if she found him unconscious and frozen on the floor). There was only one person that he allowed to strip him bare, and he was currently passed out on the bed beside him. Mustering what little energy he had left he slowly peeled out of his clothing, dumping it in a pile outside the door. He was sure that Rebecca would understand if he didn’t wait for her to arrive.

Finally, he crawled under the covers himself, nearly sobbing from the warmth of the blankets around him. Matthew was still cold, shivering nearly uncontrollably. Clayton wormed his way closer, nudging Matthew’s arms away so he could press them together chest to chest, laying carefully to avoid his aching ribs. He wasn’t much warmer than Matthew, but any body heat would help right now.

“Clay?” Matthew blinked at him blearily, a bewildered expression on his face.

“Yeah Matty, ‘s me. S’okay, go back to sleep.” Matthew shivered and tucked his face into Clayton’s neck, pulling him tight into his chest with a heavy arm. Clayton pressed a kiss to his hair and huddled closer, relaxing for the first time in hours.

He didn’t know how much time had passed before a knock came at the door, startling him out of his stupor. He was rolling over in Matthew’s arms when Rebecca’s voice called through.

“Just come to get your clothes, Mister Sharpe. We’ve got a pot of soup on the stove that’ll be done soon, I’ll bring up bowls shortly. Don’t forget to drink that tea, y’all need fluids!”

“Thank you kindly Ma’am,” he called back through the door. He couldn’t help the smile that came to his face, the older woman’s mothering reminding him keenly of Miriam. Then her words registered, and he groaned.

Clayton inched away from Matthew and towards the edge of the bed. Matthew let out a wounded noise at the loss of heat and tightened his grip, pulling Clayton back towards him. Clayton grimaced as his ribs complained at the sudden pressure, and he pried gently at Matthew’s arm to no avail.

“Matty. Matthew.” He only snuggled closer, pressing his cold face against the back of Clayton’s neck. “Sweetheart, I gotta go. Can’t feed the rumor mill too badly. I’ll be back though, promise.” Matthew didn’t respond. Clayton kissed him on the forehead and then wrestled out of his hold, smiling at Matthew’s quiet grumbles of complaints. He ducked out from under the blankets and quickly tucked them back around Matthew, who curled into the spot he had occupied on the bed.

Still shivering from their excursion, Clayton quickly dressed in dry clothes, not wanting Rebecca to find him naked when she brought up the meal. He stole a blanket from the bed and wrapped himself up in it, then poured two cups of tea. It had cooled considerably but was still pleasantly warm. Clayton drank half a cup before taking one over to the bed, trying to steady his hands so he wouldn’t spill.

“Matthew.” He shook his shoulder, and Matthew slowly blinked up at him from within the cocoon of bedding. “Hey, got some tea for you. C’mere, sit up a bit.” After a bit of tugging Matthew managed to lean up on one elbow, grimacing at the cool air that flooded under the blankets. Clayton held the cup to his mouth and helped him drink. “Slowly now, that’s it.”

After Matthew had drained the cup Clayton tucked him back in then sat down at his table and waited for Rebecca. He was slumped shivering in the chair, wrapped in his stolen blanket and nearly asleep when another knock came at the door. Rebecca passed him a tray when he answered, laden with two bowls full of a hearty soup and some thick slices of bread. He thanked her profusely and quickly sent her on her way.

As soon as she was gone he stripped and dove back under the covers, curling his shuddering limbs into the growing warmth of Matthew’s body. The food could wait until he didn’t feel like his skeleton was trying to shake its way out of his skin. Matthew welcomed him back, winding around him and sighing in contentment. And then he was gone, exhaustion blanketing his mind and sleep claiming him quickly.

* * *

Clayton was hot when he woke, hair damp with sweat. He was blessedly warm, and he relished the heat trapped within the thick pile of blankets. It was still night, the room lit only by the lamp on the table. At first he wasn’t sure what had woken him, mind hazy with sleep and lingering fatigue. Then he felt the hot, open-mouthed kisses being planted lazily along his collarbone, and couldn’t help but moan. Matthew’s arm lay heavy and warm across his hips, and he pressed closer to mouth at Clayton’s neck and press his heavy erection into his leg. Relief crashed over Clayton at seeing his partner awake and moving.

“Guess this is the part where we have ‘let’s celebrate the fact that we’re alive’ sex?” Clayton asked, voice breathier than he wanted to admit.

“Well. I’m amenable if you are.” He could feel Matthew grin into his collarbone before he bit down sharply, drawing another moan from Clayton’s mouth. “It is something to celebrate. And I do have to thank you for getting me out of a terrible situation.”

He couldn’t help but laugh, then gasp as Matthew bit down again. “I’m agreeable to that plan.” He paused and drew back, concern colouring his tone. “You sure you’re up for this? You were an icicle not some few hours ago.”

Matthew nodded seriously, then a wicked grin cracked across his face. “You could say I’m very ‘up for this’, as it were.”

Clayton huffed with laughter despite himself, rolling his eyes at his partner. Matthew hauled himself up and silenced his laughter with a kiss, hand coming up to cradle his jaw. Clayton pressed closer and opened his lips, relishing the sweep of Matthew’s tongue across his own as he quickly took advantage of the invitation. Matthew rolled on top of him, pressing him further into the mattress and grinding their hips together. Instantly Clayton was reminded of his injury as his ribs screamed out in protest with the added weight. He yelped into Matthew’s mouth, pushing at his chest to get him to move. Matthew was off him in an instant, sitting up as Clayton rolled onto his side and clutched at his ribs. Matthew was quick to pull off the covers, exposing him to the dim lamplight and tugging his hands away so he could see the area properly. A lurid purple and black bruise stretched across his ribs, already yellowing at the edges. Matthew traced it with a gentle finger, glancing sharply at Clayton when he hissed at the touch.

“I seem to recall you telling me you weren’t hurt.” Clayton’s face grew blank, eyes gazing steadfastly into Matthew’s. He twitched almost imperceptibly when Matthew probed the area with an experienced hand. “Got any other injuries you’re lying to me about?” The reprimand was clear in his voice, and Clayton finally broke eye contact.

“No. Just the ribs.”

“Gonna tell me what happened?” Clayton lay still, resolutely avoiding his gaze. “Clay.”

“Ain’t important, Matty. Leave it, okay?”

Matthew lay down beside him, curling a hand possessively over his hip and pressing their foreheads together. “Clay.” His voice was soft and quiet, and Clayton closed his eyes against the unbearable sweetness of him. “You promised you’d tell me what I missed, sweetheart.”

It was a long moment before Clayton responded. “You were dying, Matty. Wouldn’t wake up, completely cold, just… gone. So I called on the Dealer.” He glanced up to find Matthew still pressed close, eyes gazing into his own. “I won my bet, healed you, got you warm. But there was a price.” He gestured towards his ribs. “This was the price.”

“Clayton…” Matthew’s voice was hesitant. Clayton shook his head, drawing back. He tried to keep his voice measured and calm. 

“Don’t tell me it wasn’t worth it, Matthew. Was a small price to pay for your life. I love you, and I can’t live without you. You’re worth any injury I can bear if it means you’re still here with me.”

Matthew leaned in and claimed his mouth in a searing kiss. Clayton opened for him, keening at the surge of sensation, and was panting into his mouth when they finally broke for air.

“I love you too, Clay. So damn much.”

Matthew kissed him again, pouring every ounce of love he felt into the kiss. Clayton gave back just the same, overcome with relief that they were both alive. Matthew nipped his lip then broke away, ducking to press hot kisses against his neck and jawline. He tightened his grip on Clayton’s hip and hitched him closer, grinding them together with a filthy roll of his hips that quickly sent heat pooling into Clayton's belly. Tugging at Clayton’s leg, he settled it firmly over his own hips, pushing forward to nudge his cock against Clayton’s ass. Clayton shuddered and clutched at his shoulder, digging in with bitten-off nails. He pulled Matthew away from his neck and licked into his mouth with a groan, savoring the taste of him. Matthew slipped his hand between them to grasp him firmly, thumbing at the pre-come already dripping from the head of his cock.

“You’re so hard for me, Clay. Already leaking everywhere, you gorgeous man.” His voice was reverent, and Clayton couldn’t contain his whine or the buck of his hips at the words. Matthew worked him slowly, thrusting against him to match each stroke of his hand. Clayton shuddered and shoved closer, biting at Matthew’s lip with a curse. He nearly sobbed when Matthew let go and shifted away, only to cry out at the feeling of Matthew nudging his cock up against Claytons, repositioning so he could shove close and grip them firmly one big hand. His cock was hot and slick with pre-come, and Clayton felt his own dick pulse in response. Matthew groaned and stroked them together firmly, calloused hand contrasting beautifully with the glide of their cocks together.

Neither of them lasted long, worn out and overwhelmed with pleasure. Clayton felt his orgasm swiftly approaching and broke the kiss, groaning into Matthew’s mouth as he tried to thrust into his hand. “Matty, ‘m close!” Matthew’s breath hitched and he pressed closer, hand working desperately over their cocks.

“C’mon, love. C’mon.” Matthew whispered, capturing his mouth in a bruising kiss. And then he was gone, vision whiting out as pleasure crashed over him in waves. Matthew was quick to follow, fisting his cock until he came with a shout, adding to the mess growing between their bellies.

They lay together for a long minute, catching their breath, before Clayton kissed Matthew softly and drew back. Matthew stilled him before he could get up, stroking his arm softly.

“Gotta clean us up, Matty.” Matthew smiled and kissed him on the forehead.

“Let me. You’ve been taking care of me all damn night, it’s my turn now.” Clayton drew him down into a proper kiss, soft and sweet.

“Okay. Guess I can let you do that.”

Matthew was quick, and cleaned them gently before putting out the lamp and returning to bed. He pulled Clayton into his chest, carefully arranging him so he wouldn’t put pressure on his ribs. Clayton curled in close, dragging the pile of blankets up and around them. Matthew was rapidly approaching sleep when he spoke, voice hushed in the dark room.

“Today was too damn close, Matty. Too damn close. I can’t lose you.” Matthew hummed in agreement and dipped down to press a tender kiss to the top of his head.

“I know. But I’m still here, and you’re still here, and we’ll be okay.”

“Yeah, we’ll be okay.” Several minutes passed before he spoke up again, voice groggy and half asleep. “Love you, Matty.”

Matthew pressed his cheek firmly against the top of Clayton’s head and held him just a little bit tighter. “Love you too, Clay. So damn much.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments and kudos are super appreciated.


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